


Laundry Day

by cleverqueen



Series: Coldwave Week 2017 [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: ColdWave Week 2017, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Technobabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleverqueen/pseuds/cleverqueen
Summary: Day 3: DomesticIt’s laundry day. Mick and Len solve the issue of the deteriorating washing machine hoses, then proceed to make out on top of the washer. Too bad for them, some other time travelers have other plans. (Season 1? Season 2 AU? Who cares!)I really wanted to title this fic “Hot/Cold and Tumble Dry,” but that came with too much responsibility.





	Laundry Day

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t come up with the plot for this one myself. It was all my SO while we washed and dried dishes together. (Talk about domestic, amirite?) I was flailing for a plot. I was leaning towards doing something violent ala “having a domestic,” which my spouse informed me was (1) a British-ism and (2) something I couldn’t do even if it were an American-ism because it wasn’t fair to readers. Then, to prove it was soooooo easy, my SO came up with the bones of this. All the messy bits are my fault.

It’s laundry day, and Mick swings his sack of dirty clothes in ever-growing arcs. It smells a little ripe, sure, but he’s always kind of liked the smell of himself. Besides, that’s the point of laundry day. 

Len walks more sedately, out of the sack’s radius. He’s pretending to care about whether they smack cotton into someone’s door, but Mick knows his partner is equally happy to have a free day. A day where they don’t have to run from the Time Masters’ hunters or get kidnapped by pirates. A day where the Englishman doesn’t demand they steal something without any actual appreciation for their skill.

Plus, laundry day. It’s long been Len’s favorite. Even when they were young and had to go to the 24-hour coin-op at 3 a.m. in order to avoid being noticed.

Crossing from the Waverider’s corridors and into the laundry room is like stepping into another world. Where the hallways are cool and lit with blue lights, the laundry is humid and flashes orange every five seconds. (Mick is going to get turned on by strobe lights for the rest of his life.)

Mick breathes in the damp (lightly scented with last month’s Tide), and heat flushes his skin. His dick tingles when he looks at the stacked washer dryer. “Oh, that won’t do,” he says. He can’t sit Len on top of the washer while it runs if the dryer is already in his place.

Mick drops his sack and pats Len on the shoulder so he’ll stay back. He wrestles the dryer to the ground, uncaring that whoever stacked them has put a sticker on the seam.

As soon as the units are side-by-side, Len leaps up onto the washer. He lounges backwards (enticing) and kicks his feet (childish). “Good job, Mick.”

Mick’ll show him what a good job _really_ looks like. First, though, he’s got to get their laundry into the machine. He grabs the sack, then walks the five steps back to the washer and Len.

On step number three, though, his boots squish. Step number four, and there’s definitely water coming up to his laces. Step five, he puts the sack in Len’s hands. “Looks like the washer hoses need replacing.”

Len pouts at him, leaning on the sack which he’s managed to turn into a back rest. Len uses a single hand to undo the top button at his throat. Then the second button. He sounds ridiculous when he whines, “But I need to wash this shirt.” 

Ridiculous, but it’s still damn sexy. Mick will never say no to a strip tease.

Except that he needs to get hoses for the damn washing machine. Otherwise, Len’s stripping will be in a flooded room with half the Legends coming down to see what’s going on. Mick isn’t about to share a playful Leonard Snart rampant. “Hold that thought,” he says.

***

Mick stomps out of the laundry room. He’s wearing too many clothes and getting too far away from his partner. Also, it’s cold out here in the hallways, and not much better in the engine room when he stalks into it.

On the plus side, he doesn’t have to look very far for replacement water hoses. They’re just sitting on top of a work table in there. It’s like someone knew he was gonna need them. They’re silvery and flex in his hand when he snatches them up. He hums a tuneless song, and the engine hums along.

***

He returns victorious to the completely flooded laundry room. Len is still on top of the washer, but he’s buttoned his shirt back up and is looking down at the rising tide with more anxiety than he ought to be feeling on laundry day.

Mick splashes in, water soaking his trousers up to his knees. His clothes are fireproof, not water resistant. “You stay right there,” he says. He waggles a finger at his partner, and Len relaxes. “I got this.”

Len clutches his hands in front of his solar plexus. “My hero,” he warbles. 

In seconds, Mick’s switched out the hoses and started the rinse cycle to clean out the machine. Oh yeah. Mick is a hero, all right, and his princess is in this castle and going to give him more than a kiss. He’s already perking up at the thought. 

The rinse cycle conveniently sends the water on the floor into a spinning drain until the wetness is just a memory. Mick stuffs their darks into the hole beneath Lenny’s legs, and when he shuts the washer door, he makes sure to stay between them. Mick’s got a hand on Len’s now-bare waist and another on his neck. 

Len’s legs wrap around Mick’s hips, and he makes another dramatic pout. “I don’t want to get down from here. What if it’s still wet?”

Even if Len weren’t wearing boots, it would be one of the most ridiculous things he’s ever said. But Mick’s got a vested interest in keeping Len right where he is, so he just pets the warm skin under his fingers and reassures his partner. “I’ll take care of you, boss.” He says _boss_ like some guys say _baby._

The washer vibrates, and both of them moan. Mick can feel it in his thighs where they touch the machine. Can feel it in his hips and his hands where they touch Len. He pulls Len flush against him and brings their mouths together a little harder than he’d meant to. Len makes a choked, happy noise at the extra force, and Mick gets harder at this proof of interest from his partner.

Their mouths mesh together easily. Mick sinks teeth into Len’s bottom lip, like he knows he likes. Len flicks his tongue at the corners of Mick’s mouth, which has driven him wild since 1997.

Len’s hands are pushing up Mick’s white undershirt, and Mick bites his approval into Len’s neck.

Which is when a loud _boom_ fills the room, and the ship rocks hard to the right. Len’s knocked off the washing machine, and Mick holds him up, not quite ready to let go just yet. Even if there is a problem with the Waverider.

“Gideon,” Len says, more willing to interrupt Wash Day than Mick is, “what’s going on?”

Gideon’s answer is prompt and not what Mick wants to hear. “We’re under attack, Mr. Snart.” 

Why couldn’t they be _flying through an asteroid field, so sorry, nothing to worry about, please return to making out with your partner_?

Reluctantly, Mick lets Len’s legs down. They probably need to go to the bridge and be useful. 

The Englishman comes over the comms. “Don’t be alarmed,” he says. And Mick wonders if he can convince Len to return to their regularly scheduled programming. “I just need to deploy the [gobbledygook], and we’ll hide in a time pocket.” He doesn’t say _gobbledygook_ of course, but the name of the device is utterly irrelevant. Mick doesn’t care so long as it gets them out of here.

The Englishman comes back over the comms. “Actually, _do_ be alarmed,” he says. “The [gobbledygook] isn’t working.” Maybe Mick needs to learn the name of the thing.

Blondie’s voice chimes in, “Who’s chasing us?”

And that’s just stupid. Mick’s got fire in his veins, and it’s throbbing in his head now. He punches the speaker button near the door to join the conversation. “Who cares?” he asks.

The Englishman tuts disapprovingly. _Damn space Victorians._ “Then maybe you should be helping, Mr. Rory,” he says. 

“Yes,” says the Professor next. “Don’t you know these things from your time as Kronos?”

Which, yes it’s nice when they remember things like that, but Mick doesn’t like the crew having expectations of him. And he really doesn’t like it when they mention it so derisively. Derision is reserved solely for him and Len, not for the nice guys.

“Hey,” Jax interjects, “who took the [bibbledy] tubes?”

Mick sighs gustily. _So much for laundry._ He and Len unhook the tubes from the washing machine. He knew they were too good to be true.

Mick picks up his pace from desultory trudge to a _the pigs are coming_ run when another volley rocks the Waverider. He and Len burst into the engine room, brandishing their water hoses. 

“Jax!” Len calls as soon as they enter. “We have what you need.” Because he’s a drama queen who wants some credit for saving the day.

The Kid runs up to them immediately, coated in engine grease and waving a glowing blue wrench. He grabs the hoses and dashes to where he was before.

Mick and Len share a shrug before following through coils and under pipes. They catch up to the Kid in a hidey-hole of sheet metal and shining light tubes. The ship rocks again, and the Professor informs everyone over the speakers that their adversaries are getting closer. 

“Let’s roast them,” Mick suggests. 

Len pats his hand. “I’m sure Captain Hunter’s plan is a good one.” 

They both scoff at that idea, but they hold the water hose edges while the Kid screws and welds and directs. As soon as the Kid reports that everything is in place, something happens. It’s hard to describe. Like Mick’s whole body turned into toffee and stretched out, then compacted together too tightly, before stretching again, almost right this time. His heart accelerates, and his breathing catches, afraid it might not get let out ever again.

Len’s hand is tight around his, holding them together in case of another _toffee moment_.

The Englishman reports over the speakers, “It looks as though we have escaped. Good job, everyone. Mr. Rory, please do not use the [bibbledy] tubes for your own purposes again.”

Well, that was Mick’s dream, getting called out by the annoying captain guy in front of everyone. He borrowed the Kid’s comm ( _always in his ear, really?_ ) to ask the obvious question, “So how’m I supposed to do my laundry?”

A cacophony of voices respond. Apparently, everyone has been using a different laundry machine.

The Englishman screeches over all of them. “There are no laundry machines on the Waverider. Gideon fashions new and clean clothes when you need them. _Mr. Rory, which part of my ship have you been destroying_?”

Len plucks the comm from Mick’s fingers to give directions to the laundry room. 

It isn’t as good as doing laundry on wash day, but the Englishman’s subsequent wailing _is_ pretty funny. “You’ve been using the _emergency tachyon cooling system_!? Didn’t you notice the time-hazard warning signs?”

That must’ve been the stickers keeping the washer and dryer together.

Len smirks, and everyone can hear it in his drawling voice when he replies. “We were busy. Wash day is our day off. It’s for lazing at home. You know, _laundry and chill_.”

Blondie’s laughter peals over the speakers.

Mick pulls his partner against him. During the ensuing kiss, Len drops the borrowed comm.

Jaw hanging low, the Kid picks up his missing property. “Oh my god,” he reports to the others. “Snart’s been shirtless this whole time. I didn’t even think...”

Blondie laughs harder.

Mick picks up his partner, grinning when Len’s legs return to their home around Mick’s hips. If it isn’t wash day, it will have to be _order new clothes from Gideon_ day. They can do that in their shared quarters, away from any prying eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Why washer hoses as the broken thing? I had to adult in August when my washing machine flooded my laundry room twice.
> 
> Tracking: When I decided to do Coldwave Week, it was already two weeks too late, and I hadn’t given any thought to the stories that would fit the themes. I decided I’d try to write a short story a day and post them vaguely together. (My SO immediately laughed.) Here’s how it’s gone so far:
> 
> * Finished first story draft on 8/27 (from 8/24). So, not making the whole week thing.  
> * Finished second story draft on 9/8. Yeah... the SO was definitely right.  
> * Finished third story draft on 9/8. If only I could keep up this pace.


End file.
